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2013.03.26 - Unexpected
It's nearing closing time at Anita Bella, and only a handful of patrons remain, enjoying their late dinner. Fern sidles up behind Jerry, her actor/waiter compatriot, and whispers to him, "Cover for me while I make a phone call?" He barely glances back, sighing. "You know I will." "Thanks," Fern hisses, giving him a quick kiss to the cheek. She heads through the kitchen to the back service door, out of the way but inside out of the cold. She hits the button for past calls, chooses one, and thumbs the button again. After a second, Warren Worthington's phone rings on the other end. It's still relatively early in the evening so Warren is awake, probably doing work or puttering about on the computer or with the television. He's back in his penthouse apartment, lounging on the sofa, his wings draped across the back and onto the floor. When his phone rings, he looks at it with surprise before picking it up, "Worthington here..." As if someone could see him when the phone rings, he straightens and smooths down his clothes. The way he answers the phone isn't surprising, but it does make Fern laugh softly. "Hi Warren. It's Fern. Am I interrupting you in the middle of something?" She has no idea what he does with his spare time, except the tidbits she's heard from one or two of his friends from the school. And those were pretty interesting tidbits. She pauses for his reply, biting her lip absently. "Fern!" Now Warren really does straighten up as if they were on video chat. "Hello! No, you're fine. I was just...I wasn't doing anything. How are you?" He pauses, as if listening, "Are you at work still? Is everything all right?" He stands quickly and trips over his coffee table, "Dammit...ow..." Fern winces, imagining that it was not just a kiss from a puppy that brought on that reaction, and she says gently, "Everything is fine. I'm fine. It's just getting close to closing time, and I wondered if you were free. I know it's pretty short notice," she adds in apology. She only just decided she was going to make this call five minutes ago herself. Angel is hopping a bit, but luckily, it can't be seen. "Oh! Sure! Do you want me to meet you down there? I admit, I don't know my way around Brooklyn all that well, so I'll be completely at your mercy." Despite his banged shin, he's grinning at that, imagining her expression upon hearing those words. One brow lifts as Fern smirks at Warren's choice of words. "Are you sure you wanna do that?" It's a light tease, good humored, perhaps even verging on flirting? "Can you be down here in about an hour?" She leans against the door, feeling the cold from outside seeping through the metal. "An hour? Not a problem..." and it will give him about forty minutes to actually get ready. It won't take long to fly down -- much longer to take any surface transportation. "Should I be dressed any certain way? I mean, you don't strike me as the clubbing type, but one never knows. After all, you went out with me the first time which was quite the surprise." "Good," Fern says, sounding pleased at the answer. "Just casual. Something you wouldn't mind getting hay on." Surely he can hear the smirk in her voice on that one, and she neither elaborates nor gives him a chance to question. "See you in an hour, Mr. Worthington." She thumbs the button, ending the call, and stands for a moment, musing, before heading back to do the end of night things. "Hay? Where do you get hay in Brooklyn?" Warren starts but she's already hung up. He frowns at the phone..."Hay? She had to have been joking. Right?" He looks around, "She had to have been." He's not going to dress for a hayride but he'll dress casually. For him. That still means designer clothes, but he wears a sweater rather than a blazer with his jeans. It takes him the full forty minutes to get dressed before he takes off from his balcony towards Brooklyn. It's slightly less than an hour after the call that Jerry walks Fern to the front door. "If he tries anything, just make sure you tell me all about it tomorrow," he teases lightly, getting a half-hearted slap on the arm from Fern. "Dream on," Fern tosses back with a laugh, slipping outside. The door is locked behind her, and she steps away from the building. She looks around, then up, unsure from which direction Warren will be arriving. She doesn't even actually know where he lives, so she just turns a slow circle. Her boots scuff lightly with her movement, and she wraps her arms around herself, pulling her huge jacket closer to herself. Warren tends to be quite punctual...and even if he was a little early, he circled above until he caught sight of Fern. It helps to have real 'Eagle Eyes'. Fern isn't made to wait too long before he lands carefully on the sidewalk, finding where there's enough room for him to do so safely. "Hi! How did your shift go? Not too exhausted, I hope?" Whereas the last date he was a little stand-offish, this time he steps in for at least a hug. He's still a little uncertain, but he's trying. Ok, she hasn't seen him actually fly before, although she's heard about it. It's actually pretty spectacular to a girl from Ohio. As his feet touch the ground Fern smiles, "Wow. You really can fly." Yeah yeah, he's said so, but it's something else entirely to see it. She's surprised as he steps in, but her arms slip around him easily for that hug. She even lets it linger a moment before she moves to step back, letting her hands slide down his arms to his hands. "I'm glad you could come out. Work was good. A bit busy so the time went quickly." She pauses, then shakes her head. "Nope, not too exhausted." Without preamble, she releases one of his hands, keeping hold of the other and giving it a light tug to get them walking down the street. "And how was your day?" Warren grins, "Yeah, luckily they're not just decorative. I'd be happy to take you flying some time...there really is nothing like it. Sailing might come close." His other sport. The hug is returned and there's almost some giddiness as her hands slide down his arms to take his...and she doesn't let go! He's more than happy to walk with her down the street, "I don't know if mine was exciting as yours. I guess it was busy...meetings. A lot of stares. I give my dad kudos though...he won't do business with anyone who won't have me in the room with them." Falling into step easily beside Warren, Fern laces her fingers with his and walks close, sharing a bit of warmth between them. "I think I like your father already," she says lightly, turning her head to smile up at him. "But meetings..." She wrinkles her nose, "That doesn't sound very fun at all. Good thing I called." Trying not to sound too eager, Fern lets a couple steps pass before she says, "You'd take me flying?" She knows he can lift people, she heard about the 'sinkhole incident' from Gabriel. One wing wraps some around Fern to help shield her from the cold and add a little downy warmth. "Both of my parents have been pretty supportive. I got lucky." Warren can't help but laugh at her expression, "They're not fun, but necessary, sadly. It's definitely a good thing that you called." He can't help but grin at her, "I'd love to take you flying. Maybe when it's a little warmer though? It might be more comfortable for you." Fern looks back over her shoulder as Warren's wing moves, and she smiles up at him again. "That's very thoughtful. Thank you." She's walking too close to him to let their arms swing, but she doesn't appear to have any intention of stepping away. "I'd like that." Beat. "You've never dropped anyone before, have you?" She catches her lower lip in her teeth, trying to tame her smile. "You're welcome," is offered quietly as he looks down at her. When she asks the question, Warren tried not to grin too widely, "Only Kurt, but he deserved it." He's also teasing, trying to relax enough to really do so. "I mean, the important thing would be not to let go, you know? But I've never accidentally dropped anyone." There's a thoughtful "Hmmmm" as Fern thinks this over. "I suppose I could manage to hold on to you." Again she lets a few steps pass before she turns the conversation. "So, this guy in my building said he saw you helping people, when that big sinkhole thing happened. Said there were two guys with wings, but only one of them was in an Armani suit." She looks sideways at him, brows lifting, "Said the other guy looked just like you though." The grin fades some at the comment about the sinkhole incident. "Well, I couldn't just stand by, could I? Knowing I could help? I mean...flying...sort of the opposite of falling." He hopes that's enough of an explanation. "The other winged guy just sort of appeared from nowhere...he didn't look just like me though. Just the wings." "I think it's really brave," Fern says softly, giving his hand a light squeeze. She turns them around a corner, guiding their steps into Prospect Park. "So, do you like animals?" The words are casual. Almost too casual. And she's biting her lip again. Warren's wings move with his shrug, "I guess I'd like to think that anyone else would have done the same, but thank you." He doesn't consider it as 'brave'...just something that needed to be done. He walks along with her, not really knowing where they're going, "Animals? Sure! Are we looking at them or eating them?" Fern has been leading their path toward the park's zoo, heading for the barn where the animals are kept for public interaction. It's well past ten, and the zoo has been closed for hours though. "Feeding them," she answers simply. She leads Warren around the barn, into the shadows that lurk around the building, and, stopping at a door, she knocks. Almost immediately the door creaks open, revealing an elderly man with white hair and coveralls. "There you are," he greets warmly, holding the door open, soft light spilling out. "I was just going to do my rounds, good timing. The sheep are waiting for you." The man seems comfortable with Fern, and gives her a light pat on the shoulder, looking at Warren. "Evenin', Mr. Worthington." He gives the young corporate executive the once over, in a way very much like a father would. Even his tone of voice is friendly, but still has that 'I'm keeping an eye on you' note. He turns away, and Fern manages to get in, "Thank you, Mr. Greene." She didn't attempt an introduction, clearly the old man didn't need one, and she turns to Warren with a bright smile. "I hope you like sheep." "Feeding them what?" Warren asks skeptically as he's led into the shadows. "Fern..." he starts but then he falls quiet as Fern talks to the older man. When he's greeted, he gives a nod in return, "Good evening." He continues to watch Fern until she turns back to him. "Sheep? I like wearing them?" Fern reaches out, swatting at Warren's arm lightly with a soft laugh, "That's terrible. C'mon, I have some friends for you to meet." She steps away toward some stalls, tugging the hand she still holds. "I started talking to Mr. Greene a couple months ago. Shared some cannoli with him. And he lets me come in and visit sometimes after work." She stops in front of the door to a stall housing two shorn sheep. "Hey Fred. Ginger. Not too cold, I hope?" Turning, her eyes raise to Warren's face. "Warren, meet Fred and Ginger." "He lets you visit the sheep?" Warren seems rather befuddled by all of this. He's obviously never really been to the petting zoo. He looks to the stall where the sheep are, "Aren't they cold, being shorn like that?" He looks at the sheep, obviously unsure as to how to greet them. "Uhm. Baaa?" Fern nods, leaning closer to whisper, "And he doesn't charge me admission." His valiant effort to greet the sheep in their own tongue brings a laugh, and Fern shifts to bump against Warren's side lightly. "They speak English. Don't you, darlings," is directed back at the pair who stand and look up expectantly. She let's her hand slide from Warren's, stooping to dip her hands into a bucket of grain outside the stall. "Hold out your hands," she instructs, so she can give half her handful to him. "Ahhh," Warren smiles, "I see. Well then...Mr. Greene seems to be quite the generous man." He looks back at the sheep, "They really speak English?" It takes him a moment to realize that she was joking. "Oh." When she pulls her hand from his and goes to the grain. "What am I going to do with this? Are they really going to eat from my hand? Do they slobber?" "There is some slobber involved, yes," Fern says honestly, with a grin. "Watch me, and you can decide if it is within your slobber comfort level." She turns to the sheep, holding a cupped hand out to each. "Try not to take any fingers off," she cautions them, glancing toward Warren. "They're very gentle," comes the immediate reassurance. And that would be factual, as each of the sheep takes the food almost delicately. There is slobber involved. "That's not what I heard. I knew a kid...a sheep attacked him!" Warren does watch, but actually stands behind Fern, putting her between himself and the 'ferocious' sheep. The sheep are observed closely as they're fed...and Fern seems perfectly relaxed around them. "They're not like goats that eat everything, right?" Stretching up, Fern takes a rag from a nail and wipes her hands on it. "No, they don't eat everything," she says, turning to face Warren. "And these two don't ever attack. They're sweet and gentle. Just cup your hand like I did, and just feed one of them." She shifts so he can reach around her if he wants, but he'll have to take a step closer to reach. "I would never let anything hurt you." A strange promise from the girl with no powers whatsoever, but made with sincerity. It's that promise that has Warren stepping aside. He reaches out to turn Fern gently towards him so that he can look at her, despite the low lighting by the sheep pen. There's a moment's pause before he leans in slowly to kiss her. There's a curious look in Fern's eyes as she's turned to face Warren, but as she looks up at him, his intent dawns on her slowly. For a moment she's lost in that thought, and it takes considerable effort for her to raise her hands to lay softly on his chest, whispering, "Wait." She has to take a second, but even that doesn't lessen the pounding of her heart. When she swallows, she's sure he can hear the gulp. "I want to kiss you. Desperately," she adds, the widening of her eyes emphasizing that. "But... you and Kurt... I only want to kiss one of you." She frowns, searching for understanding in his face. It...wasn't supposed to go like that. At the request to wait, Warren freezes and then takes a step back. The explanation doesn't make anything clearer at first, but then color rushes to his face, probably even visible in the dark. It takes him a fee moments to find his words again after the revelation and he tries to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible as he asks, "Well, who do you want to kiss then?" Fern lets her hands drop away as Warren steps back, and at his question she takes a step back herself, the reason why coming, "Right now, I want to kiss you more than anything in the world, Warren. But you're both important to me. I'm not ready yet." She takes a deep breath, not matching his feigned nonchalance in the least, her eyes earnest. Warren doesn't look right at Fern just yet. In fact, he turns to look at the sheep for a moment before finally figuring out what he wants to say. "It would probably be easiest...for the both of us," he starts slowly, "If you make that decision soon. I know that you wouldn't mean to be doing it, but I don't think that the other should be led on. Not that I mean to rush your decision or anything." He finally does look back at her fully, "No one ever promised to protect me like that before." There's a nod, and Fern agrees softly, "I know. I don't want to drag this out." But, she's had opportunity to spend more time with Kurt, and wanted to make sure she got to spend time with Warren as well. "It's a promise I'll keep. You are..." she falters a moment, letting her eyes drop. "I feel more comfortable with you tonight. I like it." Luckily, Kurt hasn't mentioned them dating to him, but then again they haven't been hanging out much lately. Maybe this is why? Warren goes over to get a handful of the grain to feed the waiting sheep, "This is the first time I've been on a second date with someone, you know. The first time I dated someone who wasn't after my money...or fame. Someone real." There's another pause as he goes to feed the sheep from his hands, not minding the slobber, it seems. "I know I'm not as suave and...easy to be around as Kurt. I mean, that's why he's my friend. We're kind of opposites. I know I can't be him and still be myself. You're honestly the first girl that I've asked out with my wings out for everyone to see...and the first girl I ever really cared about being around." Oh, Fern's been concerned with Warren's money. But over the fact that she finds it intimidating, not that she finds him attractive because of it. She watches him move, coming near again to offer his hands to the sheep. If anyone had ever told her that she would be in a barn feeding sheep with Warren Worthington one day, she'd have called them crazy. She picks the rag up from the floor where she dropped it, shaking the hay out of it, and offers it to Warren when his hands are empty. "That may just be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." Warren waits until the sheep have had their fill of the grains in his hands before he takes the offered cloth, "Thanks." He's quiet a moment before offering, "It's the truth. I'm not trying to trump anyone or anything or...try to sweet-talk you. If you choose Kurt, that's great, because you're a good person and he deserves to be cared for by a good person." There's a brief frown as he wipes off his hands, "I'm not very good at all of this, I'm sorry." Fern dips her hand into her pocket, withdrawing a small bottle of hand sanitizer. She squirts some into one palm, then offers it to Warren. "You think of him before yourself a lot, don't you?" The question is thoughtful, and she looks at Warren from the corner of her eye as she rubs her hands together with the gel. The offered bottle is taken and Warren uses some of the hand gel, "Oh, I can be very, very selfish and stubborn. Believe me. Kurt and Bobby will tell you that too. I mean, if you do choose him, I can't say that I'll be thrilled and that I'll go hang out with you two all the time...or at all...but if I get angry at one of my closest friends for being chosen by a girl I also like, then it leaves me not only without the girl, but also without a friend. I don't have that many." "You're a very good friend to have," Fern observes softly. Then she sighs, picks up the grain bucket, and leans over the fence to pour it into their feeder. That done she turns to Warren. "Will you walk me to the subway station?" And...that's that. Warren wipes his hands on his jeans and looks to Fern, "Let me at least call you a cab? It's late...you shouldn't be walking around alone at night anyhow." Fern can't hide where she lives from Warren forever, and it's something he needs to know. "Will you come see me to my door?" There's a dread in the pit of her stomach that he'll be appalled, but she can only afford so much. That...was not what he expected. Now he's just confused again. Warren's brow creases briefly before he nods, "All right. I can fly you there if you'd like...even though it's cold." It's his way of saying that he doesn't want to ride in a stinky cab or a cramped subway car...but he'll do what she'd prefer. A smile manages to break through, despite Fern's trepidation. "I'd like that. And it'd be faster, huh?" And he's promised he won't drop her, so there's that reassurance. Her head tilts as she looks up at him. "You'd rather fly than travel by cab or train, wouldn't you?" Warren leans closer, his smile returning a little, "To tell you the truth...I've never ridden on the subway. Even when I was a kid." With that, he gestures for Fern to wrap her arms about his neck so that he can lift her easily into his arms. "But yes, I'd rather fly. I'd rather fly than walk, if it was possible." Fern's smile gains strength, "Then I'll take you on the subway. But not tonight," she adds. She pauses, then steps close, letting her arms slide around Warren's neck, her hands finding purchase on his coat for added security. "You promised you won't drop me," she says softly, almost a whisper being so close to him now. "I promise I won't drop you, but you might need to promise not to take me on the subway. Aren't those cars pretty narrow? I'm kind of wide..." but with that, Warren spreads his wings and leaps up into the air, easily pushing higher and higher until they are easily above the rooftops. "All right. Where are we going?" About to answer, Fern's breath escapes her as Warren takes flight, her arms tightening, but not enough to choke him. For a moment she dips her head close to his, hiding her eyes against his neck, but then he stops climbing, she she carefully looks around. "Wow," she says softly. She can't help but giggle at his question, asking, "Do you come equipped with GPS? I live in Harlem." That last comes carefully, bottom lip bitten as she waits for any reaction to that. Warren can't help a light grunt as the arms are tightened about his neck, but he relaxes as they fly, "GPS? No, but I can still see the street signs from here." He tilts his head at her when she mentions living in Harlem, "And you work all the way down here?" But he starts heading North. It isn't too long before they're flying over the Hudson River...right over the Brooklyn Bridge. "It's a bit of a commute," Fern allows, trying to sound casual. But she's feeling anything but casual right now. She's who knows how high in the air, hanging onto a millionaire for dear life. A millionaire who, by the way, hides some pretty impressive musculature under those Armani suits and expensive sweaters. She keeps well tucked against Warren, keeping her head ducked against the wind, but still looking around, fascinated. "And you do this any time you want." The words are so soft they might not have been intended for his ears. A touch more loudly, she adds, "28 Macombs Place." "Sorry it's so cold," Warren offers quietly as he continues to fly North. He takes a more scenic route, flying over the lights of Broadway just because it's pretty impressive. "What's the closest intersection? I know Harlem's around 90th and up, right?" "It's not very cold at all," comes back just as quietly. Fern gives Warren more information absently, her attention torn in so many different directions it's almost dizzying. Or maybe that's the height? Ok, so Fern isn't the best with heights, but she's not afraid. This is probably safer than a roller coaster, and she loves those. She turns her head, looking back over his shoulder at his wings, watching their fluid movement for a moment or two. Warren grins, "All right, glad you're not cold." He's just going to hold onto Fern while he can...especially if she ends up choosing Kurt over him. He takes the directions and heads in that direction -- he's definitely holding on to her so that she would have to really push herself away in order to fall. The wings themselves easily cut through the air, finding the air currents which catch them and keep them aloft during the trip. Fern tilts her head, her cheek rubbing softly against his as her lips get nearer to his ear so he can hear without her worrying she's got to yell against the wind up here. "Could you always do this?" she asks, her breath warm on his skin. She doesn't know much, but she does know that some people who have 'abilities' are born with them active, and some develop later, kind of by surprise. And Warren is trying very hard to maintain focus with her pressed so closely. He's never had to fly like -this- before...Kurt and Piotr aren't nearly as pretty. Luckily, he's rather used to flying while thinking about other things. "Always?" No, my wings started growing in when I started puberty. It's how most mutant powers develop. Not all, but most. They took a while growing in so it was a bit later before I could even try flying." Thankfully he can't see her face, because mention of puberty brings a blush to her cheeks, although he may be able to feel the warmth against his cheek. "You're.... really good at it." She closes her eyes as she hears her own voice, thinking that might have been the most lame thing she's ever said. She blames the way the blood has rushed to her head... or has it drained out of her head? Either way, she shuts her mouth, afraid of saying something even worse. "I've had a little over ten years to practice...and I did, whenever I could. Whenever I can." Yeah, it's not the most stimulating of conversations, but it seems that neither of them are really in a mental state to be talking about complex ideas. "Are you all right? Not too cold? It's not too high?" Now she has to answer questions. Pull it together, Fern. "I'm fine. I like it." There. Simple answers. Fern turns her head, twisting a bit to look forward, but ends up looking at his face in profile from inches away. There's really no denying Jubilee's assessment of him as a 'mega-hunk'. If she was impressed by looks alone, she would have fallen for him the first moment she laid eyes on him. Obviously, that didn't happen, and the recollection of their 'altercation' in the coffee shop brings a smile to her lips. It isn't too long before they're flying over Harlem towards the address she gave him earlier. It's a miracle that he could even remember it right now. The smile has him tilting his head some, "What's so funny?" This close, she could just about get lost in the blue of his eyes, but Fern manages to answer softly. "The coffee shop, and how you don't like not getting your way." She turns her head, so her lips are nearer his ear again. And maybe so she doesn't have to look at him, so temptingly close. "You know you wouldn't always get your way with me, right? I meant it when I said I'm not afraid of you." Warren licks his lips, taking a few moments to get his wits back about him. "I don't like not getting my way, no. But...I also tend to appreciate it when people call me on my crap. I know that my desires aren't always warranted." He glances down at Fern, "I like that you're not afraid of me. I...know that I won't always get my way." Right. There's her street. He finds a small park to land in so that he doesn't interrupt the flow of traffic. "I think we're here." Fern doesn't let go immediately when Warren lands them. She pauses, her arms tightening, and turns her head to press a warm kiss to his cheek. Then she pulls away, actually looking at him shyly. "Thank you." Thank you for....? She doesn't specify. Instead she reaches for his hand again, and looks around, having to take a second to get her bearings. Boy, flying sure can make a person dizzy. The neighborhood isn't the best, but it's not quite the worst. It's just... bad. And she's out here at night regularly, coming home from work. With a light tug she starts them off to walk the block to her building. Angel is perfectly happy to hold onto Fern as long as she'd like but he also doesn't want to get his hopes up too far. "You're welcome?" is offered after the kiss and thanks even as he watches her reaction to flying. At least it's a better reaction than the first time one dimension-jumps with Nightcrawler! Ahem. Glancing about the neighborhood, Warren stays close to Fern even as she starts off towards her building. "Do you like living here?" is finally asked as he tries to get more information without seeming to disparage her neighborhood. "I heard that Harlem was the new thing...lots of younger people moving here and revitalizing the area." While she doesn't dawdle, Fern doesn't rush their walk either, and her shoulders shrug under her huge jacket. "It's better than not having a place to live." She's pragmatic about it. "I've heard stories that it was far worse, but it's a slow recovery." There's a pause, before she adds, "It's a lot different from home." It really wouldn't take a leap of faith to have guessed that before she even said it. She turns her head, looking to him. "I don't know where you live." "New York is like no other city on earth," Warren offers, "But I bet it's very different from Ohio." See? He remembers! He'll keep her pace even as he looks about. "I live a few blocks south of here...funny, we probably live closer to each other than meeting out in Brooklyn." He looks back at Fern, "You didn't answer my question about liking living here. Do you feel safe living here? I know it's a stereotype, but..." Fern looks surprised when Warren says he's fairly close. "Really? I never would have thought." Hm... "Close to Central Park?" She knows that's an affluent area and it would make sense for him to live near there. He's probably even got a view of the park. At his repeat of his question she purses her lips, and again avoids answering it directly. "I'd like to live somewhere else when I can afford to." As they near her building she slips her free hand into her pocket, pulling out her keys with a jingle. "Here it is," she says, indicating the building. She lets go of Warren's hand and steps up to the door, using a key to unlock it, holding it open for him to enter, then pulling the door firmly shut behind them. If it's not given a good yank, it doesn't latch properly. There's a bank of mailboxes just beyond the door, but she doesn't stop at hers, instead leading him toward the stairs. "I'm on four." Warren nods, "Not too far from Central Park..." and he does have a pretty good view of the park, yes. Penthouse view. But he doesn't want to throw anything in her face when she's actually showing him her apartment. He waits patiently and helps with the door even as she goes to lead him to the stairs, "No elevator, I take it? I hope you had a lot of help moving the furniture in!" "No, no elevator." Fern chews her lip lightly, keenly aware of the general shabbiness of the building, the dingy walls that haven't seen a fresh coat of paint in who knows how long, the worn carpet. At least there's no one sleeping in the lobby, and there aren't any funny smells. Her boots scuff lightly as they go up. "I didn't really have much help, no." Then again, she didn't really need it. She doesn't say much as they climb, turning on the fourth floor landing to head to 4D. She chooses another key from her small collection, stopping at her door. Out of the six locks that line the door, she uses the key on two, four and five, then pushes the door open to step in ahead of him, reaching for the light switch just beside the door frame. The apartment is small, a single room, but for a closet and bathroom. One side is the 'kitchen', the appliances almost miniature, a table and two chairs there. In the main section there is a sofa, which also acts as bed, and a coffee table. On the table are a few books, under it is a relic of a boombox, and under the sofa is a wooden chest. However, unlike the rest of the building, the room is recently painted, and it's kept tidy. He's not entirely sure he's supposed to actually walk in. After all, they haven't even kissed yet! Warren pauses in the doorway and glances in but doesn't cross the threshold yet. "Do you...want me to say goodnight? I know you have decisions and I don't want to pressure you into making it if you aren't ready." Fern turns, facing Warren at the door. "You can come in," she invites, unable to help a grin as she adds, "I promise I won't try to take advantage of you." There is a pause, the grin softening, and she nods, "I know you won't pressure me." She steps backwards toward the kitchen, asking, "Can I get you something to drink? I have... well, milk and light beer, actually." There's an apologetic cast to her crooked smile. "Sorry, I don't have much company." There's a moment's pause before Warren does step inside, closing the doors behind him. "Do you want me to lock the locks?" he asks, not wanting to make her suddenly uncomfortable. "I guess...Milk would be fine, thanks? I have scotch and grapefruit juice at home, so I get you. I don't get much company either unless Bobby or Kurt decide to drop in." He winces then, not wanting to bring up his 'rival'. He looks around at the studio apartment for a moment, "You know, I envy you a little." There's a nod with her answer, "Yes, please. Two, four and five." In addition to the six locks on the door, there's a backup system consisting of a metal bar that fits into plates on the floor and in the center of the door. She doesn't suggest he put that in place as well, but it's clear that she doesn't feel uncomfortable being locked in her apartment with him. She laughs, the sound clearly amused, "Scotch and grapefruit juice? Aren't we a pair?" Turning to fetch him a glass of milk, Warren's words stop Fern in her tracks, and she turns back to look at him. "Why would you envy me?" It takes a moment, but he finally figures out which locks to lock. He looks at the bar, but doesn't put it across. "Sometimes I have flavored seltzer water or ginger ale too." There's a smile then before he looks about the place a little more. At the question he turns back to Fern, "You did all this yourself. I mean, I'm guessing you did...Everything that I have is because of my parents. I mean, I never -earned- anything myself." Fern frowns lightly, looking at Warren... well, like he's crazy, actually. "Never earned anything? Warren, you put yourself in danger to help people. That's a little because of your parents, sure, because they raised you. But really... that's all you, Warren. That's a choice you made." And he probably makes more often than she'd suspect. "That's different though," Warren starts, stepping a little closer. "I did it because I could. Because if I sat back and just watched, knowing that I can fly when people are falling...I don't think I'd be able to live with myself." This is another time Fern is going to disagree with Warren, shaking her head. "A lot of people would just watch, and be too afraid for themselves to help. I bet you didn't think that you could get hurt, you did what you thought was right. You earned respect for that. Gratitude. You probably saved more than one life, Warren." There's an earnestness to her words, as if she can't believe he can't see that as clearly as she can. There's a brief sigh, "Maybe, but...I think people might surprise you. It might take a moment, but...well, look at 9/11. I know you weren't here then, but I remember...people were so helpful. Everyone. Every single person helped out." Warren moves over to the chair to take a seat, "I still think it's different though than earning things yourself." Again, Fern shakes her head. "A lot of people, alright, I'll give you that. But there were some selfish people who only thought of themselves. There always are. And the ones who don't think of themselves... they're nothing less than heroes, Warren." She looks at him pointedly at this, not coming out and saying she means him, not any 'they'. As he sits, she moves to get a glass and the milk out of the small refrigerator. She walks over to where he sits and puts the milk carton and glass down, looking at him with a smirk, letting one hand rest lightly on his shoulder. "Here. Earn yourself some milk, hotshot." Her tone is soft and playful, and she lets her hand slip away slowly as she moves to the other chair. Warren chuckles and pours himself a glass, "Are you going to have any?" He doesn't drink immediately. Instead, he looks at the glass, his smile fading some as he goes over Fern's words. Finally, he offers quietly, "I think some of it comes from...well...'With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility', right? I can sit on this...hide it...pretend like it doesn't exist or I can take this thing that I can do and try to help. Try to show people not to be afraid and that I'm not going to hurt them because I look different." He then glances over at Fern, "I feel like I'm talking about myself a lot..." Slipping into the chair across from Warren, Fern waves one hand lightly, "No, I'm good." She sits back in the chair, her eyes drifting over the Angel in her apartment, nodding with his words. When he looks at her, she smiles immediately, her eyes settling on his face. "I think you're talking about yourself just enough." She's not objecting to his opening up. In fact, quite the opposite. "But all the shows and articles say that one shouldn't hog the conversation." Warren's cheeks flush pink as he admits that he's read that advice. He finally takes a sip of the milk, watching Fern as he tries to think of questions to ask her to get her talking about herself. "Have you seen any shows since you've moved here?" That hint of color on his cheeks draws Fern, and she leans forward, resting her elbow on the table and supporting her chin on her hand. He's so powerful, but still has the grace to blush. When he brings up entertainment, she presses her lips together and frowns. "No, I haven't had a chance to." Read: she can't afford tickets to anything. Her hand shifts, stifling a sudden yawn, and she giggles. "Sorry. You aren't boring me, it's just been a long day." "Well...maybe we could go see a show sometime. We'd probably need box seats so I don't get any patrons behind me getting pissed off," Warren starts to grin before he catches the yawn. "I should probably let you get to sleep." He quickly downs the milk before standing, "Thank you for this lovely evening, Fern. I had a very nice time and hope we can do it again sometime. Now that we know we live closer to each other, maybe we can meet in Manhattan next time?" He smiles at her and seems willing to offer a hug, but no more. He understands boundaries. Fern's brows lift slightly. Box seats? She's never even looked up the prices of box seats, why torture herself. "I'd like to go to a show with you." She stands as he does, quick to put her own thanks in, "I'm really glad you were free." Stepping forward, Fern stretches up to slide her arms around his neck, pushing up on her toes and fitting comfortably against him in the embrace, letting it linger as she says softly, "Thank you, Warren." Again, she kisses his cheek, a light brush of her lips, before she steps back. For a second she hesitates, before she smiles and turns abruptly. Locks are disengaged, and she opens the door, turning to look at him. "Fly safely. I'll see you soon." "Pick the show and I'll see what I can do," Warren offers, holding Fern closely for a moment while she embraces him. Once she steps back he lets her and moves to the door. "Lock that tight after I go, all right?" He glances briefly at her windows, but...too narrow. It'll be the stairs for him. "Sleep well, Fern." Category:Log